Assassin Family
by Jean Prime32
Summary: When there's an unknown actcident with the Animus, how will Desmond cope with being sent back into Altair's time?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Alright, Baby (A.K.A. The Animus) is prepped and ready to go!" Rebecca yelled from the main room. A grumpy British voice responded. "Why do you always have to shout! Get off your lazy ass and walk in to talk to him!" She was quick to retaliate. "Oh, just drink your fucking coffee Shaun!" Said man grumbled and practically screamed. "Get in here Miles!"

Desmond sighed as he slid his tired body off his (extremely scratchy) cot. Since he started using the Animus, (not by his chose) sleep had become more and more elusive. It seemed every time he closed his eyes, images of either Altair's or Ezio's life played in his mind. If not those, then nightmares that were thankfully and regretfully completely his own. He felt like his head had become a prison, always locking him inside against his will, to witness memories that belong to dead men.

He got dressed quickly and strapped on his weapons. When he entered the room, Lucy looked up from her computer and smiled. "Good morning Desmond, just lie down and we'll get started."

"_No breakfast, as usual."_ He though sadly to himself. He was lucky to get a cold cup of tea and half of a sandwich after he was done. He eased himself into the chair and sat back.

Lucy got up and stood by his right side. "Ok Desmond, the Animus has been gliching a little lately, so if anything feels off just tell us and we'll eject you." He nodded and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he was meet the bright white haze of the Animus loading screen. He sighed and looked down, watching the mist crawl lazily over his black sneakers… _"Wait! Ezio doesn't wear sneakers! They weren't even invented yet!"_ He franticly threw his arms out and saw the familiar white sleeves of his hoodie.

"Guys, what's going on? Why am I still me?" He called up to the ceiling. Lucy's panicked voice boomed around the small room, coming from every direction at once. "We don't know! The Animus is going haywire! Hang on, we're going to eject you!"

Suddenly, pain crackled through Desmond's body. He fell forward with a shout. Fire raced into his veins, paralyzing the young assassin in an instant. He tried to scream for help, but the pain was agonizing and it stole his breath away, leaving poor Desmond to writhe in misery as molten lava was poured throughout his aching body.

"Desmond? Desmond! Shaun what's happening?" Lucy shouted. Said British man was typing up a storm, fingers flying across his keyboard, as error messages popped up all over the screen. "That's what I'm trying to find out! This makes no bloody sense! The Animus just suddenly switched back to Altair's memories and it's like it's trying to force him into them without synchronizing first. I can't explain it. I can't even eject him. Becca, how are his stats!"

Rebecca's trembling voice echoed in Desmond's ears. "Not good! His heart rate's off the charts! I can hardly get reading on him! I can't- I…I don't know what to do! It's like… he's fading away, but that's impossible! His consciousness is **in** the Animus. It has nowhere to go!" She looked like she was ready to pull her hair out.

Meanwhile, the pain in Desmond's body had slowly faded to a dull tingle, running from head to toe. He cautiously rolled over onto his back. When no pain emerged, he propped himself up onto his elbow and did a quick check list.

"Head… check! Arms… check! Chest… check! Ass… thankfully a check. Legs… disappearing. Han- wait, WHAT!" Wide eyes shot back down to his legs to see they were in fact dissipating, turning into the coding that surrounded the White Room. His feet were already gone, replaced by an odd numbness. The de-coding had spread up to his thighs, greedily reaching for more of the young man's body.

"Becca! Shaun! Lucy! Wha… what's happening to me?" He stuttered up to the ceiling in a frightened voice. Everything below his waist had now disappeared, the glittering computer code drifting aimlessly around him.

The three older assassin's were unable to answer, all of them struck speechless, as they watched Desmond's prone form shine brighter, the golden halo of light enveloping his body entirely. "Oh my god" Lucy whispered, just as Shaun murmured "By the creed"

All three watched helplessly, as the glow engulfed Desmond, searing the eyes of all who witnessed it.

"Help…" Was the last thing Desmond uttered, before the last of his body disappeared, and the world faded to black.

Darkness reigned supreme in the assassin safe house, the only light coming faintly from a flickering light bulb. No one spoke. No one could. All anyone could think of was the young man they had all come to know as a little brother.

Lucy was standing, head bowed towards the floor, as tears and silent sobs rocked her small body. Rebecca had her back turned to the room, her forehead pressing against the wall, but the slanted light revealed two tiny trails of water dripping down to spatter on the floor. Shaun was on his knees, staring at the empty chair as if willing it all to be dream, and to see the young man get up and complain he was hungry. He heart tore itself in two, when he realized that would never happen again.

He was gone. Just… gone. No body to bury. No special place to visit when they missed him. Nothing. _"He didn't even know how much we cared." _The Brit thought miserably. _"I treated him like dirt, Lucy only smiled and gave orders, and Becca used him as a guinea pig. We never told him we loved him. We just lost our little brother and he thought we didn't care." _He lowered his head as a tear slipped out of his eye. "_He thought we hated him and now… he's gone."_

Silence covered the room, only broken by the lonely wail of a failed heart monitor. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Hello peoples! This is my very late, new chapter. Hope you like it! Enjoy!

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><p>The first thing Desmond was aware of when he came to was the air. It was hot, unlike the constant chill emanated by the cold concrete of the safe house. Also, it was clean and fresh, compared to the stale, smog-filled and metallic air pocketed in every room of their filthy 'haven'.<p>

He slowly opened his eyes, and blinked rapidly at the ray of sunlight that assaulted him. He was lying on his back on the ground, staring up at the clear blue sky. The young Assassin slowly got to his feet and looked around. He was in an alley, dirty tan bricks surrounding him, an opening lead out to what looked like a… street? It was hard to tell with the light blurring his vision.

He cautiously approached the mouth of the alley, peering out, before reeling back in shock. _"It's not possible. No. I'm still in the Animus, or it's the bleeding effect. I am __**not**__ in fucking Jerusalem." _But he could tell that this was real. In the Animus, you can feel things but it's muted. And with the bleeding, everything's fritzy, it's like your there but not there. Here, he could see, hear and feel everything perfectly.

He leaned against the wall behind him, his bag digging into his back and took a deep breath. _"Ok, I'm here. I can't freak out. I have to focus. Alright, how'd get here? Well, the last thing I remember…" _ Suddenly, he went ridged, brown eyes widening. _"The white room… de-coding… pain… I remember! What the hell happened? Did the Animus glitch? No, that doesn't make sense. If it did, it couldn't send me back in time. Could it? Damnit! Why didn't I listen to Becca when she was talking about how the Animus works? Oh yeah, I couldn't fucking understand a word she was saying!"_

He sighed in frustration and griped his hair. _"No, I can't think like that. Gotta keep my head straight. First up, find out where the fuck I am."_

The ex-bartender crept up to the edge of the wall, activating his eagle vision and looked in all directions. After confirming that there was no danger, he slipped silently out of the narrow space, staying in the shadows to avoid detection. He sub-consciously pulled up his hood.

The Assassin stared in awe at the city before him. I was just like in the Animus, but ten times better. To a normal person from his time, it would look small, dirty and ugly, a place they would want to never see again. But not to Desmond. The stone buildings, the dusty cobblestone streets, the sunlight glinting softly off of the looming towers. It was… breath taking.

In his amazement, he didn't realize that he'd stepped out of the darkness, his odd clothing drawing the attention of several curious onlookers, and a suspicious group of guards.

"You there!" One of them shouted. Desmond's head whipped around and his body tensed. The group of angry Templers was coming towards him at an increasing rate. "Stop!" Only one thing went through the young man's mind. _"Shit"_ He spun around and took off, running as fast as he could.

"_Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why is it always Templers?" _He thought bitterly. He sped around a corner, and slid to a stop, sending a cloud of dust up in his wake. Ten **more** furious guards were coming towards the Assassin, effectively cutting off his escape route.

Now he was completely surrounded, blood thirsty, evil smirks being sent his way. They had him. _"Not for long"_ He sunk into a defensive stance, muscles coiled, ready to attack at any moment.

When the first guard came swinging at him, the young Assassin easily dodged the sword, knocking it out the others hand with a well-placed blow. When the brute stumbled back, there was a soft **'snick' **and a glint of steel, as Desmond drove his hidden blade into the opponent's heart.

He yanked his blade out, ignoring the blood coating it, and turned to face the next Templer. Before his enemy could even blink, the ex- bartender had elbowed him in the nose, quickly ducking behind him and swiftly slid his weapon up and into his ribcage.

Shoving the corpse away, Desmond's finely tuned Assassin senses picked up the familiar **'twang' **of a bow. Without hesitation, he leaped and rolled to the side, just as a barrage of arrows embedded themselves into the ground where Desmond himself had stood just seconds before.

He looked up just in time to see an archer raise a bow, arrow notched and aimed in his direction. Dodging to the side, the young Assassin whipped around and flung a throwing knife directly at the Templers's jugular.

Desmond targeted another victim, not even waiting to see the previous fall. Quickly disposing of the new carcass, a dull **"thump" **sounded from behind him, and Desmond didn't even spare it a glance. He knew what it was.

After fighting off more of the (what seemed to be) constant stream of guards, the Assassin came to a swift conclusion. He needed to get the hell out of there. Even with all of skill, Desmond was getting tired. He knew he couldn't keep going forever.

Finally, a gap appeared in the rapidly shrinking mob. _"Thank god! I'm getting the fuck out of here!" _Turning on his heel, Desmond sprinted through opening, avoiding the attempted jabs of the frustrated Templers, and easily scaled the wall of a tall stone building.

Running quickly across the rooftop, the young Assassin jumped onto the adjoining one, keen eyes scanning for suitable cover. Spotting a little cloth covered hut, he ran faster, paying close attention to the loud footfalls chasing his silent ones.

Cutting around the corner of a raised platform, Desmond vaulted towards the hut, worrying that his pursuers would catch up to him and ruin his chance of hiding. He dived into the small space, landing in a slightly awkward squat and ducked down, waiting for the guards to pass.

Desmond leaned against the wall to hear better. Soon, the sounds of heavy feet striking the shingles mercilessly, out of breath panting and Arabian cursing reached his straining ears. (Oddly enough he could understand and speak Arabic, and some the things they were saying made even him wince.)

Once he was absolutely sure they were gone, Desmond slipped silently out of his hiding place and inched to edge of the roof, peering down. The lazy guards had apparently given up on finding the Assassin, walking away from the site of their now forgotten battle. The bodies of Desmond's victims had been removed, leaving no trace that blood had once covered the street.

He heaved a sigh of relief. _"Glad that's over._ _I have to be more careful. If I stick to the roof tops, I'll be able to move around more freely. Now, let's see where the hell I am." _

Spinning to look around, Desmond spotted an apartment building, (or whatever they called it back than) and grinned. _"Perfect."_

Getting quickly to his feet, the ex-bartender scoped for guards with eagle vision. Finding none, he turned and dashed across the rooftop, building up speed and jumped at the last second. He landed effortlessly with only a faint sound, undetectable to the un-trained ear.

Soon Desmond was leaping from roof to roof, flying through the air as exhilaration filled him. This is what he was born to do. The wind whooshing past his ears, the bright cyan sky above him, the distant mighty cry of an eagle. It felt… right. Nothing had ever felt this right. But… at the same time, Desmond felt displaced, like he didn't belong there. _"I've never fit in anywhere. Not at The Farm, not at the bar, not even with Shaun, Lucy and Becca. I'm an outsider, an Assassin. But I don't even fit in with others of the brotherhood. I don't belong anywhere and I never will." _Desmond's heart was heavy as he thought of this. It was true. He was forever condemned to be lonely, to perform his duty as an Assassin, this he had no problem with. But the loneliness… No one cared for him. No one ever would.

Desmond pushed those thoughts away as he landed on the roof of his destination. He crouched on the wooden overhang, studying the city below him. He was at the very heart of the bustling metropolis, people swarming like flies and buzzing around in all directions.

The young Assassin let his head droop a little, his body easing slightly from its stressed stance. He didn't relax all the way. He doubted that he could anymore. These days he was always on guard, with enemies and allies alike. No, he wasn't a stiff or completely un-emotional person. He was still the same care free Desmond he'd been when Abstergo captured him. At least… he was personality wise. He had **a lot** more to worry about since he rejoined the Assassin's. His shoulders were heavier, the burdens that had been placed on him were not easy to take, but otherwise he hadn't changed.

Suddenly, Desmond felt a shiver run down his back, following a crawling sensation that slowly made its way up his spine. He stiffened, knowing the feeling all too well. He was being watched. He shifted his body to the right, peering out of the corner of his eye, trying not to alert whoever was spying on him that their target was aware of their observations.

He scanned the small house next to his perch. _"Nothing."_ The book store to the side of that. _"Nope."_ The tall church across from him… Desmond choked, eyes widening to a painful level. A white robed figure was crouched, in a slightly tenser version of Desmond's, on a protruding stone.

No longer bothering to hide reactions, the young Assassin gaped at the man, only to freeze when the others head tilted up towards him. Glittering amber eyes locked onto Desmond's, the sharp look chilling the young man to his core. At the back of his mind, (in the non-frozen part) Desmond was distantly relieved for his hood, as it covered most of his features from the un-forgiving scrutinizing.

His brain stuttered, trying to form coherent thoughts with no success. Finally his head spit something understandable out. But he regretted it the moment it left his lips. "Altair." He whispered in a mixture of awe and fear.

Said Assassin's eyes flashed, body drawing upright as his fists clenched. _"How did he hear me?"_ Desmond thought in surprise. That surprise quickly turned to horror as he watched the Master Assassin leap gracefully onto the roof next to the church, his eyes never leaving Desmond.

Panic set in, as the younger Assassin stood abruptly and stumbled back. _"Get a hold of yourself Desmond! Get your ass in gear and move!" _With that, he turned on his heel and sprinted away like a bat out of hell.

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><p>"<em>For shit's sake, not again! Why do I always get punished like this? What the fuck did I do that made the universe decide to shit on me at every possible moment?" <em>The young Assassin thought miserably with a touch of resentment. He was currently running flat out across the rooftops of Jerusalem, bounding from one to another at break-neck speed.

He didn't need to look behind him to know Altair was following him. He could feel those hawk-like eyes burrowing holes into his back. _"Man, I'd rather face a whole army of Templers than fricking Altair lbn-La'Ahad, Master Assassin! This is a fucking nightmare! I'm being hunted down by my own ancestor!"_

As he turned a corner, Desmond heard a whizzing noise… and it was coming straight for him. _"What the… oh fuck!" _He ducked, twisting to the side just as a knife sliced past his ear, missing it by a hair's breath. He didn't let it deter him. If anything, he ran faster.

Sadly, Desmond knew he didn't have much of a chance. Don't get confused, he was no amateur. Lucy, Shaun and Rebecca thought that his skill came solely from, as Shaun says, "Sitting on his lazy ass all day, being spoon feed what **real **Assassins spend their whole life learning!" But, what he never told them was that he spent all of his free time training, building up and maintaining his body muscles, practicing the moves he'd learned in the Animus over and over again. He **worked** for the right to be called an Assassin. But, he wasn`t at Master level. He most likely never will be.

Altair, on the other hand, was. Not only that, but he was known as one of the greatest Assassin`s in history. So, it wouldn't be lon-

Something slammed into Desmond`s back, sending him sprawling to the ground. He had just enough control to angle himself so his body hit without breaking anything, but he still grunted in discomfort as he was introduced to the icy, hard stone with a painfulamount of force, one arm trapped awkwardly underneath him. He turned his face to the side, starting to move his free arm to push himself up, only to grit his teeth when his attacker dug a knee in to the small of his back and a hand restrained his wrist.

Desmond started to struggle, Assassin alarms blaring in his head, telling him he was vulnerable and screaming at him to changethat _fast_. Then, he felt cold steel kiss the hollow of his neck. He stopped all movement immediately, knowing that even a twitch could set off the beast above him.

"Now that you have stopped running, you **will** answer my questions. **Who are you?**" A deep, Arabian voice growled.

Desmond stopped breathing. He was in deep shit. "_I'm stuck, I-can't-even-count-how-many years in the past and I have no idea how I got here. I'm on the Templers watch list and I have no one to go to for help. And now I'm one twitch away from being killed by my own ancestor, who has no idea who I am. I'm so screwed."_

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><p>Oh. My. God. I've never written anything so long in my whole life. Pathatic right? I'm sorry it didn't get very far into the story. The next chapter will have a lot more Altair in it. YAY! Anyway, its 2 in the morning and I have to sleep before I collapse. Hope you liked it! Please review!<p> 


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